Don’t Shit Where You Eat (or Drink)

I had the weirdest experience last week. The short of it is, I went out and had a drink with a girl I met at my bar after work. The long of it is, it turned out to be the strangest and most awkward situation that ended up with her calling an Uber for herself at the end of the night. I always tell myself “Don’t shit where you eat” and up until that night I thought that meant don’t date your co-workers, but alas I have a new definition for that saying.

April and her friends kept coming back to my bar last week at this show. To protect the innocent, I will not name the place I work at, or the name of the show they saw, but it was clear to me at the beginning of the night that this girl was trying to work me. It had been awhile since I had even kissed a girl up until last Thursday night, so I went with it, and when her and her friends asked me what my ideal girl was, I quoted a line from a blog I wrote last week. I said “27-35, dark hair, light eyes and hopefully enough of a hot mess to compliment my hot mess.”

Just because I have a type doesn’t mean I always stick to it, but after I stated what my particular wants are in a girl, I noticed that she didn’t come back to the bar for the rest of the night. At one point, I saw her come out of one of the doors in the venue, spotted me talking to a co-worker, then she IMMEDIATELY went back inside the theater as if she saw a ghost. It was quite odd to witness that happen but I just figured, who cares and I went back to work.

At the end of the night, I was coming down the stairs as she was coming up the stairs. I spotted her and said hello, and she seemed really receptive so I asked her if she wanted to get a drink next door at the bar. She agreed and we walked out of my work, half a block to the bar and sat down and ordered a drink. Her friends told us they were on their way to meet us so I figured, I’ll have one drink with her, say goodnight and maybe give her my number in case SHE felt the desire to call ME. April was pretty, aged somewhere in her thirties with dark hair and light eyes, but even though that kind of matched the description I gave to her and her friends earlier that night, something was off.

We’re sitting at the bar, and she is clearly inebriated. I start wondering where her friends are and should we be drinking these beers at all. I was on my first, and I could tell she was on her fourth or fifth or sixth for all I know. She started accusing me, in a playful tone might I add of “working it” to get tips.

“You’re just doing this to get more tips” She slurred.

Now, it’s true that I am a bartender and part of, if not almost ALL of my income depends on the tips I get, but A. I wasn’t working now, and B. I PAID for these two beers so what the fuck is she talking about?

This is when I started to see the red flags. In addition to her thinking I was trying to work it for money, she went on to ask me how old I was.

“I’m 39.” I stated confidently

She was taken aback by that statement. She then continued with her extremely self sabotaging ruse and tells me she was embarrassed earlier because she is 36, and thought I was 28 and that she didn’t fall into the category of women that I normally date, plus, up until that moment, she thought SHE was robbing the cradle so to speak. Now all the red flags started to pop up with every other sentence that came out of her mouth like a pinball hitting a target.

I should have gotten up and left the moment she told me she was divorced, but her friends were nowhere in sight, and at this point I couldn’t leave her all by herself in a drunken state at a bar in Korea Town, so we went outside to have a cigarette, hopefully find her friends so she could go home, and then I would continue with my after work ritual of stopping at a Denny’s because I was especially hungry that night.

Outside on the patio we sat next to white girl with glasses who told us she was from the ghetto in Pasadena which was surprising to me considering Pasadena is a predominately well off city in Los Angeles. She was also dating the black bouncer who was currently putting a customer in a headlock while she was putting coins into baggies like a drug dealer would package up his cocaine to sell. I remarked at how odd this situation was, and I offered to drive April home after witnessing what I thought was a bar fight, but actually turned out to be two dudes who knew each other just fucking around. April goes on to tell me that she feels a little better about our situation since I am older than her, I am acting like a gentleman, and we both used to live in Seattle. She is definitely still drunk though, and I suggest we leave just to make sure she gets home ok since at this point her friends never showed up and have apparently ditched her and left her in the company of a bartender she met about a hour ago.

“Let’s get another drink.” She says.

I know its probably not a good idea, but I say ok, and I drive us up the street to another bar I used to go to after work. There we meet some latino guy named J.T. who buys us a french connection, and then cheers us and leaves the two of us alone at the bar. What a nice gesture, I think to myself. Free drinks are always a positive, and over the next fifteen minutes April begins to loosen up a bit more, make out with me in at the bar, and start tugging at my the belt loop on my pants making me think that there is a small possibility that they may come off at some point in the night.

You want to get out of here?” I ask knowing that her answer is going to be yes.

Yes.” She responds.

So I head to the bathroom real quick, ask J.T. to keep an eye on her, and when I return from the bathroom I leave a couple dollars on the bar and we head out.

I should probably take you home.” I say

I ask her for her address, type it into my phone and then like a good boy I do the responsible thing and start driving to her place in Silverlake. Not one minute into the ride, she asks where we are going.

I’m taking you home.” I say

Let’s go to your place.” She says with a tone that makes me change my mind, AND the direction we are headed.

Now look, I knew in that moment there was a possibility that this was going to turn out to be the worst idea all night, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking, I haven’t gotten laid in awhile, and this is starting to look like an opportunity for me to do exactly that. Somewhere deep inside my brain I know that it’s not going to work out that way, and that taking home an insecure girl who’s friends left her at a bar with a stranger who she thought was 9 years younger than her earlier that night is a HUGE red flag, but like an idiot, I ignored my gut instinct and we headed back to my place.

We enter my apartment, I put on some music and she grabs me and pulls me down on top of her onto my couch and starts making out and grinding on me until something odd causes her to stop everything.

You put on Taylor Swift??” She asks with an obvious distaste in her statement.

This isn’t Taylor Swift, It’s Rilo Kiley.” I said.

I can’t believe we’re listening to Taylor Swift.” She says.

This ISN’T Taylor Swift!” I snap at her.

Now I’m getting a little pissed. She’s insulting my intelligence, and I need to remind her that she’s the one who has been drinking since 8pm, and I’m the one who drove us to my apartment and then put on a playlist which I made two years ago called “Songs To Make Out To” cause that’s what we are doing, and I KNOW I didn’t put any TS on that mix. And who cares if I did? Taylor Swift isn’t that bad anyway.

She begrudgingly accepts the fact that this song isn’t who she thought it was, and we continue to make out until she starts to take off my clothes, which leaves me laying there in nothing but my underwear, and her in her black silky one piece jumper which apparently takes the place of a bra and underwear nowadays.

I offer her a non alcoholic drink, but she insists on ordering what’s left of my tequila with some tonic. I get up, start to make the drink for her, and then she starts insulting me from the living room.

What you wearing?” She antagonistically says to me.

I’m wearing red CK briefs because I’m almost forty years old and the last time I wore boxers was back in the 1990’s when I was a teenager. As I got older, I stopped liking boxers because they ride up my ass, so I switched to fashion briefs. You know, black, or blue or red or sometimes green $20 pairs of underwear that Marty McFly was wearing in the movie Back to The Future? However I don’t remember Marty McFly being harassed for wearing the same kind of underwear that I am. This is starting to piss me off. Don’t come into MY world and start complaining about the music you THINK I put on, and the banana hammock I choose to wear under my pants since I was 29 years old.

I can not believe I have to defend my choice of underwear. I don’t even want to fuck this girl now because I get the feeling she will probably start whining about it at some point during the night. I have never been in a situation like this before, and as I make my way back over to the couch in my “horrific” CK briefs that I love wearing, I start to look for a way out of this debacle.

What time do you work tomorrow?” I ask her politely.

She has to be up at 6am. I look at the clock and it is clearly after 3, and I know what needs to happen. I need to wrap this up, and when I say that, I mean the situation and not my cock because I am so turned off by her now that even as she continues to force me to make out with her, I’m doing it with my eyes open, watching the time until it hits quarter after 3 and I tell her it’s time for her to go.  She’s an ok kisser, but I just don’t think it’s worth it anymore.

I say to her I’ll be right back, and then I’ll drive her home. A minute later I emerge from my bedroom wearing some quick clothes I just threw on, and I’m soooo looking forward to dropping her off, then dropping by the Jack in the Box down the street for food because as I forgot two hours ago, I am STILL really hungry. I come out wearing adidas pants and a t-shirt I cut the sleeves off of, pretty much what I wear to the gym every day.

What’s with that outift?” she says to me as she is trying to fit back into her BCBG skinny jeans.

That’s it! I’ve had enough of this chick. I don’t even want to know why she is being such a fucking weirdo at this point, I just want her out of my house. My cat looks on from the hallway waiting to see if the coast is clear for her to come back in, but April’s insensitivity to my clothes, my music, and my decision to drive her home keep my cat far away form the living room.

You ready to go? ” I ask her

I called an Uber” she said

Wait, I was going to drive her home, or at least pay for the Uber she is about to get into, but before I say anything about that I figure to myself…..why would I continue to act like a nice guy at this point? Why would I offer to sit in a car with her for another twenty minutes when all she has done throughout the night is project her insecurities on to me, and then insult my choice of clothing and style of music?

I don’t say a word. I’ll let her get home all by herself because at this point the only thing I want more than her out of my apartment is a jumbo jack with cheese and a large order of curly fries.

As April is waiting for her Uber to arrive, I notice what appears to be a silver button that fell on the floor. I pick it up and it says BCBG on it. Clearly, this is not mine as I don’t own anything from BCBG, in addition to the fact that it is a women’s clothing store.

I think this is yours” I say to her as I hand her the silver accessory and then notice that her jeans are missing a few of these “button snaps” or whatever the fuck you call them.

That’s not mine” She says.

Yes it is.” I say.

“No, it’s not.” She snaps at me.

What the fuck is up with this girl? What do you mean this isn’t yours? This is OBVIOUSLY yours since you are wearing black BCBG jeans, you can’t button them because the button is missing and is currently sitting on my coffee table. And by the way, no one else has been to my apartment and taken off and put back on their pants in the exact spot where I just noticed this thing sitting. And….now she’s calling me a liar!

After a few minutes of complete silence, April’s Uber arrives and I offer to walk her down to the front door, which she immediately says I don’t have to do, but I do anyway. We make our way down the stairs and she is startled and stops dead in her tracks when she sees a shirtless neighbor of mine waiting for the elevator.

Come on, you’ll be fine. He’s probably wearing boxers under those pants.” I say sarcastically.

I walk her past the elevator, out the front door to my apartment and ask the Uber driver to make sure she gets home alright. She gets into the car, and as I go to say goodnight, she closes the door on my face before I could tell her to text me when she gets home. Unbelievable!  What the hell did I do so wrong?

As the Uber takes April out of my life, it hits me… I never gave her my phone number, and I don’t have hers. I smile because this is my way out, and probably the best thing that could have happened at the end of the night. Most likely I’ll never see her again, which is fine with me because I would never WANT to see her again. I’m sure she’ll tell her friends that I was an asshole, so to combat that, I wrote this blog about how much of a weirdo she was.

As I return home from Jack in the Crack with my dinner, I look down and see the back of the other silver button that April claimed wasn’t hers to begin with.  I still have them for some reason,  but before I throw them in the trash with my empty bag of fast food I snap a picture to remember this night and what to never do again.


I always thought “Don’t shit where you eat (or drink)” meant don’t date the people you work with because it causes drama.  Now I’m starting to think it means something more like “don’t go out for a drink with a drunk chick I met at work who has issues that she hides behind by being catty, unreasonable, casually mocking my choice of clothing and calling me a liar at the end of the night after I offer to drive her home or pay for a car service.”

Thanks for clearing that up universe.  Lesson learned.

111 Ways to Die

Dying is no joke. I’ll be the first to say that there have been moments when I thought about how it will happen to me, and every one of them freaks me out.

A few weeks ago, a co-worker of mine told me about how he wrote down a bunch of ways he could go out, but so far, he hasn’t made true on any of them.

But, it gave me an idea….

We’re all going to die someday, right?  My biggest fear is drowning to death or suffocating, but what if there are 111 ways to go out that are WORSE than either of those, but also kind of funny at the same time.

Why does death have to be so serious?

For example.. …(and keep in mind, I would make these requests in advance and I would pay someone to set it up, but ultimately, I wouldn’t know that it was coming until it actually happened.)

Instead of simply getting shot in the head, I would “walk into a bar in Hollywood to have a drink with Justin Timberlake, right before he takes me into a secret room in the basement where seven gorgeous naked women hold me down as JT shoots me in the dick with a pellet gun, until I bleed out and die on the floor while the movie “Friends With Benefits” plays on the big screen TV.”

You get it? What a terrible way to go!

Every week for eleven weeks, I will post ten horrifically comedic ways to die, then YOU the reader will vote on the top two worst ways to go that week. At the end of the eleven weeks, We will have our top ten, and I will post that in the final blog.

What am I trying to accomplish by doing this?  I don’t know, but I obviously have a dark sense of humor. Regardless of if you think this idea is morally right or wrong, we’re gonna find out.


This is the Time

This entry from 9 and a half years ago really stood out this morning for some reason.  I don’t know why, but maybe it’s because I’m in the same position now like I was back then, except I definitely don’t sleep until 5pm.  I must have been on some nice drugs back in 2006 to sleep that late.  It’s interesting to go back and read something from 9 years ago and still relate to 85% of it.    I’ve been mulling over a career change to sales, and I haven’t really decided what to do, then I read the line where I say “I couldn’t hack it as a salesman,” and I think to myself….maybe that’s the answer I sent to myself in the future, from a time in the past where I was wise beyond my years.  Maybe I had a life almanac, like Marty McFly had a Sports Almanac.  Maybe not, but it’s still a fun read to enjoy on this Throwback Thursday.

Originally posted: May 6th, 2006 on:*starduster

You won’t find me trading secrets or buying back anyone’s trust. I’ll never play professional sports unless I invent a game where your rookie year starts at thirty-one. I won’t be available all the time for anyone but myself, and to me that is much more healthy than being everything to anyone.

You won’t find me on any pedestal for too long and you might not want to be there when & if I jump back down to earth. I rarely talk on the phone because I feel it’s impersonal to speak to someone while you’re doing ten other things at once and most of the time when I am on the phone, I’m thinking about all the other things I have to get done.

I’m thinking right now would be a great time to break out of this mindset that has been keeping me in my place. I couldn’t hack it as a salesman, a video store clerk, an office worker or a delivery guy, so I chose to hang out behind a bar and talk to drunk people for six hours at a time.

There are times when I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning, but then I realize that it’s really the late afternoon and I should have gotten up hours before the 5:00 news. I don’t search for people, and I never go out looking for love, but somehow everyone I’m meant to meet shows up in my life practically unannounced. I never plan on anything to happen, so when it does I’m always quietly surprised and somewhat satisfied.

I don’t always know what I want, but I do have an understanding of what I don’t want and that makes it easier for me to get what I deserve. I’m not a prophet, but I can tell you a good story, and I’m rarely a role model unless you consider following your heart good advice.

This is the time when I choose to feel a certain way and stop allowing other people to make me feel anything. I cried for the first time in a year recently, and for the most part, I felt a lot better.

I’m never disappointed with anything in life, because I know I’m the creator of my experience here and at some level, everything that goes around in this world comes back to me at 40, or 50, or 60, or 70 with an amazing story to tell, or just a good blog that keeps me inspired.

Creative Blogger Award/My Nominees

It’s an honor to be nominated for The Creative Blogger Award!  I’d like to thank Carisa Adrienne @ Sometimes Silver Linings Are Blue for the nomination.  She is my #1 fan and I appreciate the love and support.



  1. Thank the person who nominated you and post a link to their blog. (yes)
  2. Share 5 facts about yourself (below)
  3. Nominate some bloggers in return and notify them of their nomination. (in process)
  4. Keep the rules in your post so it makes it easy for everyone to know what to do. (obviously)

So here it goes.

Facts about me:

  1. I had a rare blood disease from years 1-3 that almost killed me, but I made it through.
  2. I’m 5 foot 9 and a half, but I lie and round up to five foot ten.
  3. I lost my virginity at 17 while listening to the Counting Crows album “August & Everything After”
  4. I have owned 14 cars in my lifetime, and I realized sometime around #10 that it’s just a car.
  5. I don’t do anything in the morning until after my second cup of coffee

As for my nominees:

Mr. and Mrs. Halloween  – Because I always look forward to their festive posts.

Everything I Never Told You – Because Tosha Michelle is an inspiration

A Walk On The Brightside – Because Georgette Ann is a poet, and she knows it

Stars Rain Sun Moon – Because no one can captivate a cup of noodles quite like Mari

Heart Shaped Eyes – Because even though I don’t know her name, I’m always intrigued

Also, it’s totally OK if you don’t want to partake in the post.  I just think it’s fun and since I’m kind of new to WordPress, I need to thank all these lovely people I have met, well kind of met.

Also, one for the road:

Maybe Love Will Come Around If….

I haven’t had a girlfriend since 2009. That equates to six years of being single and six years of Holidays and Valentines that have been spent either drunk, alone, or with other friends who also share the same relationship status as me. I have to say, as much as I’ve appreciated saving a little extra money by not having to buy someone a gift around these times, those 8 to 9 days a year are some of the loneliest and depressing nights I have to endure and one of the major reasons why I don’t look forward to the holiday season which in a few short weeks will be upon us in full swing.

In the past few months I have come to the realization that I may be flawed, but I know I’m a good person and I know I would make a good boyfriend. The problem is finding that girl who can compliment me and at the same time who doesn’t take away too much focus from my work and my writing. I like the idea of love. Ok, I love the idea of love, but I also know just saying that out loud doesn’t create an opportunity for love to come around. So what does?

I’m picky. I prefer a certain type of girl and I prefer a certain look to that certain type. It’s never been easy for me to find someone to love. It’s not like anything else in life that I desire and I could just go out and get. I don’t even know where to start.

I tried the online dating sites and what I have ascertained from them is that computer dating takes the fun and soul out of the idea of dating. There may be a connection, but that connection fades when I’m not online.  I already have the odds stacked against me because I live in Los Angeles and there are about 1000 better looking guys than me out here.

Ok maybe that’s too harsh…maybe there are less than 1000 better looking guys, but the point is my personality isn’t going to shine through via a two dimensional screen with pictures of myself and some witty words that girls rarely seem to even care to read. I’ll admit it. I look at the pictures and then I decide if I want to read her profile, if she even took the time to make one. I know that finding love on the internet has been done before, and done before by me, but I got to be honest, there is something unromantic about swiping left or hitting the “fave” button and paying $45.00 for three months to get rejected and flaked on by some girl in some town who thinks there is someone better coming around the corner.

Maybe love will come around if I had the perfect online profile? Probably not.

Timing is the one factor that I can’t control. Perhaps the girl I really enjoy talking to and would like to start dating, just started dating someone SHE really enjoys talking to and has now put on her horse blinders and can see me only as a guy to put in her bullpen. If you don’t know what I mean by that reference, then I suggest you watch a baseball game.  

If you still don’t get it, you probably haven’t been single in a long time, so I suggest you go back to your husband or boyfriend or girlfriend and figure out where you two are going to go on date night this week.

Regardless, “I wish I had met you a few weeks earlier” has been said to me a couple times. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now” has also been said to me. So in essence, I could have found the girl I wanted back in June, the last time I got laid, and it could have been the perfect time for me, but NOT the perfect time for her.

So, what do I do then? Oh right, I stop seeing her completely and I go on a four month span of depression, not dating, and feeling like nothing is worth my time, and then I end up writing about her in a blog titled “The Flight Attendant.”

I started thinking maybe love will come around, but she never gave me the chance. Maybe love will come around if the timing is right? Well that just sucks. The timing is never right for love, is it?

The other day I was hanging out with my best friend who recently started dating someone and is now in a full blown relationship. I mentioned to her that I would like to have a girlfriend and the first seven words out of her mouth were “I didn’t know you wanted a girlfriend.” Sure I do. I’ve always wanted someone to love, but I want the right girlfriend, or the right someone to love. Do I need to declare that fact and make it known to the world by putting out a status update on Facebook stating that I am now accepting applications for the role of “Girlfriend.”

GIRLFRIEND: (27-35 Caucasian/Latin/Ethnically Ambiguous) 5’3’’-5’7’’ dark hair, light eyes, big features, not too much drama, but preferably a hot mess that doesn’t really have it all together, but strives to want to get it all together at some point and between the two of us maybe we can figure out a way to compliment each other’s messiness.

I’ll admit it, I’m a hot mess right now. I probably will be one for the remainder of my life, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to try and hide the fact that I don’t have it all together in a town full of women and men who are in the same position as me. Enough of my life is in sync now that I feel like I have something to give to that special someone who hopefully feels the same way about me. I don’t mind if it happens really fast, but I don’t want it to take over my life and deter me from my goals. I want her to be cool, and quirky, but not Kristen Wiig quirky, more like sexy quirky as in Angelina Jolie in the movie “Hackers.”

I want her to be crazy enough to get on a flight to Vegas with me on a Monday, but down to Earth enough to know that we have to be back by Wednesday cause I have work. I want her to be so many things, but part of the thrill of being in a new relationship (as I remember it) is finding out what makes the other person tick, so I still want an element of surprise to go along with these other desires.

I want her to be able to deal with what goes on inside my brain, and be attracted to me on the inside as well as on the outside. How do I manifest all these things? How do I draw love to me in a way that once it’s here it won’t make me step back and go “Whoa, I’m not ready for this”  because that’s the opposite of what I am putting out into the world, and I’m NOT going to be one those people who gets what they want, then changes their mind about what they want and how it came about.

Truth is, I do want love in my life and I do want there to be someone special for me to have adventures with but how do I know if it’s the right time and the right place for the right girl to come into my life? When I say that I’m a true believer in love because it’s the most powerful emotion on the planet, I mean that. It scares me, but deep down inside I know….

Maybe Love will come around if… I want it enough.

I think I can live with that logic

California, Don’t Let Me Down.

I had always wanted to move to California ever since I was a 13 year old hanging from the rafters of my basement townhouse in southern New Jersey.  I knew I needed to be out there, but I didn’t know why, or what I was going to do once I got there.

Now, in six short months I will be celebrating my 13 year anniversary living in the Golden State, but if I can be completely honest, I still don’t know what I am doing here.

I know why I moved here, and I know that for a good handful of years I thought I had it all figured out. However, over the past six months my life has re-defined itself and made me re-think what I thought I knew to be truth.

I’ve entertained the idea of moving back to Seattle, where I lived for two years and loved, but I haven’t got a clue as to whether or not that is the right answer.  I’ve thought about starting over in a new place, but I’m almost at the age where starting over somewhere new seems immature, unpredictable, and too costly to my wallet and the people I’ve met in my little support group.

I’ve even thought about moving back home to the East Coast, but to me, that feels like I’m giving up on my dream.  Maybe it’s time to redefine that dream.

I want to stay here in California.  I love it here 98% of the time, and the other 2% I’m only complaining because it’s in my nature to do that when it’s 99 degrees in the middle of October and my A/C has been running since early September.

I’ve asked for guidance from the big spirit in the sky, and I’ve prayed for an answer to come because I just don’t know what to do anymore.

When I started this life out here, I knew it would bring me something I truly loved and believed in, but have I gotten so comfortable in the middle of my early-mid-life crisis that my not knowing what to do might have been covering my eyes from an answer that could have just passed me by?  I don’t think so, but how would I know?  Ignorance is bliss.

Things haven’t worked out the way I thought they would, but it can’t all be for nothing.  The premonitions I got back in ’88, ’92, & ’97 have promised me that there is something out here for me and there is a reason I am still here today.

There is no way I believe that my time here is in it’s twilight, because I won’t allow myself to think that way.  I believe in what I’m doing, and I believe it will all make sense if I just let it all go, and have a little faith.

California, don’t let me down.

Listening to:


Life is Better When Your Team is Winning

That picture was taken about a year ago when the Philadelphia Eagles started the season 3-0. Those are all my friends that I watch the games with, and that is our bar Big Wangs in Hollywood where I’ve been going since October of 2008.

I felt great that day after the win. In fact, it put me in such a good mood that the rest of the week I was more confident and positive about my life than I had been in years, and I started wondering is there a connection between feeling good about my life when my professional sports teams are winning? Let’s go back to October of 2008.

I had been making a little money bartending at The Wiltern Theater, I had a great girlfriend who I lived with who just booked a national commercial, and the Philadelphia Phillies had won the World Series. I felt like I was on top of the world. Everything seemed to be going right, and within a few months the Eagles made the playoffs, and were winning all the way up to the NFC Championship. Sadly, the Eagles lost that game to the Arizona Cardinals, my girlfriend and I broke up, and I moved out.

In the back of my mind I started to think that perhaps all this winning from my sports teams in my satirical life could be aiding in my good fortune in my real life. It seemed like now that my teams were losing on the field, I was also losing in life.

Continuing with the sports-life parallel, in August of 2009 my ex-girlfriend and I got back together, and a few months later we attended a wedding of one of my best friends back in NJ. During that time we went to a Phillies game which they won by a score of 9-1. By the beginning of the Fall the Phillies won the NLDS, then won the NLCS against the Los Angeles Dodgers, and were on their way to another World Series championship.

Looking back now, that’s all I really wanted from life back then, which was to win back to back World Series championships.  That would have righted a wrong that Philadelphia sports fans feel they have endured for way too long. 28 years is too much time in between world championships, but for the record, I wouldn’t expect anyone from New York City to understand where I am coming from.

In a sick twist of fate, we lost that World Series to the goddamn Yankees. The Flyers started the season with an abysmal 2-7-1 record, and the Eagles were slightly an above .500 team for the first few months of the season. On the personal side of things, my ex and I had decided to call it quits for good, and she moved out in early 2010 right after Donovan McNabb played his last game for the Eagles, an embarrassing 34-14 loss in the NFC Wild Card game against the Dallas Cowboys.

Things were not very good in my life at this point. I was living on my own, not knowing how I was going to pay for anything, and my friends and I had nothing to look forward to except the start of Phillies spring training which hopefully would cast a small ray of sunshine on an otherwise bleak start to 2010.

Then something crazy happened. I got upgraded in a national commercial and was suddenly flushed with new funds which took me on a proverbial ride to a small amount of wealth, a large amount of independence, and days and nights of cheering and bonding with friends as the Philadelphia Flyers were playing in the Stanley Cup Final. I quit my “in the meantime” job, was living off of the residuals from my commercial, and I had a bright future ahead of me. I finally “made it” in Hollywood.

That was probably the happiest I had been in a long time. Sure, the Flyers didn’t win the Stanley Cup in 2010, but by the end of the year and into 2011, I had enough money to do what I wanted, I was getting booked on jobs regularly, I had two more commercials on TV for Miller Lite that would run during the Eagles games while me and my friends were watching at the bar, and the fan base out here in L.A. for Philly sports started to grow exponentially. We would all meet at the bar for the games, or drive down to San Diego to watch the Phillies beat the Padres live as the Flyers were again kicking ass in the playoffs and vying for a championship.

Then came 2012, and it all went to shit.

The Phillies kept losing, the Flyers couldn’t win two in a row to save their lives, and the Eagles finished the season with a putrid record of 4-12. My life wasn’t going so well either. Coincidence? I think not.

My ex and I started to collaborate on a project, but we couldn’t afford both our rents of $1000 a month each, so we decided it would be a good idea if she moved into my one bedroom apartment with me as we scoured the Southland for some well paying work, while trying to write our TV show and collect unemployment.

It was a tough couple of years living together, and barely being able to afford the life that we felt we deserved and the one thing that we had to look forward to, other than a big paycheck for a creative job well done, was the Eagles, Phillies, and Flyers winning, which they didn’t feel like doing for the next three years. It was a dark time in Philly sports.

Fast forward to 2014: She moved out last year, I am in debt a few thousand dollars from living off of credit cards for the last two years, and I had to take my old job back bartending at the Palladium and the Wiltern theater. The other day I started to think fondly of those times four, five years ago when things in my professional life and my proverbial life were so much better than they are today. I started thinking, perhaps there is a connection between when my teams are winning and when my life is winning too. I gotta be honest, I miss it, and I feel like maybe it’s time for it to come back around.

I don’t know if this applies to fans of other sports teams, because I’ve been a Philly fan all my life. I don’t know if “their” lives are turned upside down from the highs and lows of watching their teams win and lose, and lose yet again. Does anyone from New York ever feel the way I do, because that town just seems to win ALL THE FUCKING TIME, and it sickens me. There is NO WAY Yankees fans appreciate those 27 World Series Championships because they don’t know what it’s like to have only won 2 in their team’s history.

I don’t expect a hockey fan from Chicago to be able to connect to what I feel when I watch and pray that MY hockey team from Philadelphia might finally be able to raise a championship banner for the first time in 40 years. I wouldn’t expect ANYONE from Shittsburgh or Green Bay to understand what it’s like to have NEVER won a Super Bowl not to mention what that does to your inner psyche when you are so close, but get robbed by a cheating New England Patriots team in 2004.

Would people in Toronto be as happy today if the Blue Jays hadn’t won an epic game 5 in the ALDS yesterday? I think not.

If I’m having a bad day and I turn on the TV and watch the Flyers shut out the Blackhawks like I did yesterday, it puts me in a better mood and I start to think more positively about my life. Maybe I take chances or I do some nice thing for someone which I wouldn’t have done if the Flyers had lost.

If the Eagles win this Monday night in a crucial divisional game against the New York Giants, maybe I smile a little bit brighter at work the next day, and maybe that makes me more money. Maybe if the Eagles go on an four game winning streak, I talk to that girl that I’ve been crushing on since September and I ask her out and she says yes.

Could it be all because of the outcome of a game? Yes. I truly believe in the title of this blog which is why I decided to write it today, two days after the Flyers have won two in a row, and four days after the Eagles won on Sunday against the Saints.  Life really is better when your team is winning.

When it comes down to it, the fact of whether my sports teams win or lose is totally out of my control, but the affect it has on me can go either way. Sure, I can allow it not to have an affect on me, but that just doesn’t seem organic being that I’m an emotional person and sports is an emotional game. We’re at the beginning of the NFL & NHL seasons, and that means there is hope for the future, a chance at winning it all, and with the exception of the Detroit Lions, everybody has a shot at a Super Bowl appearance.

Nothing is too far gone, and no one is saying “season over” quite yet.

I’m always going to be happier in life if my teams win because that means there is the possibility and the chance that I can win too. I don’t know how the season is going to go, just like I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen in my life over the next few months, but for the past five or six years I have watched from the sidelines at my home bar in Hollywood as other fans have celebrated a victory, and it sucks.

I have scrolled through Facebook posts by my friends from Boston and Chicago, reading about how proud they are that their teams were so goddamn good that year while they were winning it all. I have been ridiculed by people on the street and put down for wearing my team’s logos when I know they have a losing record.

That’s all about to change.

I believe in my team, and I believe I’ve suffered long enough in my own life because it can’t get much worse than back to back to back losing seasons. Maybe, just maybe this is the year when it all comes back around, or maybe it isn’t.  I don’t have a choice.  I HAVE to believe in my team as much as I HAVE to believe in myself.

After all, it’s been 7 years since 2008, the last time a Philadelphia team has won a championship. If I was a betting man, I’d say Philly is due for another run at winning it all, just like I’m due for another great run at life.

Photo credit: Dave Rosenblum

An Open Letter to WordPress

I started this blog about 6 months ago as a way to write about my friends’ weddings and then post them on Facebook for all of them to read. I posted about 8 or 9 blogs over the course of three months, got some positive and some negative reactions, was praised for my work, and condemned for it at the same time. I gained some friends, and lost some old ones. Then I took a break for awhile.

When I returned from my sabbatical, I started blogging about personal issues, things I was currently going through or I had went through, and stuff that I wouldn’t even admit to some of my friends in real life. Then something strange started to happen….people on WordPress started to follow my blog. Then came the likes, and the comments and then I started thinking, maybe this is what I should be doing with my life.

I had been searching for something like this for a long time. What’s the word…. oh yeah, “recognition.”

I’ll admit it, I like it when people “like” my posts and I appreciate each comment and I do my best to comment back and to check out other people’s blogs. I’ve gotten to the point now that I feel compelled to write every week, because I know people are reading and part of that knowing keeps me going.

Is it a self fulfilling prophecy? Probably, but I’m not an ego-maniac, I just like to know that I’m not the only one who has had a shitty day, or a broken heart and I know now I’m not the only one who writes about it.

Recently I was nominated for “Performance of the Year” by I’ll save you the drama, I didn’t win. I didn’t even make it past the first round of voting because A. I didn’t know it came down to a public vote & B. I was asleep for 85% of the time the voting polls were open.

I worked every day last week until about 2 or 3 in the morning. Yesterday on my day off I took a xanax at 9pm after eating half a pepperoni pizza, and woke up a little before noon today. It felt fucking great to sleep, but it felt kind of like shit to wake up to 25 Facebook notifications basically saying that I wouldn’t be making it to the next round and that I was now a “falling star.” I just grabbed my coffee, deleted all those posts and said “Fuck that shit.” Winning anything doesn’t really matter to me anyway. It’s not why I do this.

The internet is weird. People on Twitter are passive aggressive assholes you don’t know, and people on Facebook are your old friends that post pictures that make you think their lives are perfect, when they’re really not. The poker sites are rigged, the sports blogs are biased, and there is so much celebrity bullshit going around, with  no way to prove any of it, but who fucking cares anyway?

Then there is WordPress, where people actually seem to care. For real. They read what I write and they sympathize, or they laugh out loud, or they just make me feel like someone is listening and basically, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

So thank you for following me, and thank you for commenting on my posts. Thank you for the nomination, and thank you for paying attention to the one thing in my life that I feel I have absolute control over, and believe me, that level of confidence doesn’t come around very often for me.

I don’t know what happens from here. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life, or where I’m going to end up, but I know I’ll keep writing about it and I know you’ll be here to keep reading about it. Thanks for that.

Love & Regards,

Christian Marc

Don’t worry — the voting hasn’t started yet

Wow, I didn’t know that good looking guy from Hollywood was really Johnny Depp in disguise.

Ned's Blog

image For anyone who might be panicking thinking the voting for Performance of the Year at The Public Blogger started 30 minutes ago and, thanks to having pre-celebratiry margaritas I passed out before I could post the link so you could vote for that good-looking guy from Hollywood — Don’t worry! He’s not as good looking in person. Or so I hope.

Anyway, the voting was knocked back 30 minutes and is supposed to begin at 7:30 p.m. I will put the link up as soon as it becomes available. I promise!

Assuming I haven’t passed out… Stay tuned!

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Shameless Self Promotion

As much as I don’t like to solicit myself or my work….

I was nominated for Performance of the Year by thepublicblogger here on WordPress.  It’s really an honor just to be nominated for ANYTHING in life, but especially for my writing which is dear to me and obviously something I love and would like to think will eventually support me…monetarily.

I’ll get right to the point.  I would just like to ask that you click on this link

You will find out more about the show, the 10 other bloggers who were nominated, and the story within the story. Perhaps you might like what you see….perhaps you will discover something new. Or perhaps you’ll be so enthralled by all this information coming at you that you may even want to visit my Facebook page by clicking on

this link here —>

Take a look around, click on some shit, like some stuff off Facebook.  You can even friend me and I’ll happily accept and look forward to the time when I can be of help to you.

Please feel free to like this post, comment on it, or tell me to go fuck myself.  When it comes down to it, I write this blog for me, and I don’t need an award to know who I am.

But a little recognition is always good for the soul.